


Friendly Fire

by TheRandomPhan



Category: Danny Phantom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27431737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRandomPhan/pseuds/TheRandomPhan
Summary: He knew that this day would come. He just wasn't ready for it yet.(For Ectober Day 30- Disguise)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 101





	Friendly Fire

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first story I've written where I actually cried while writing it. Good luck :,)

On the corner of a street was a fairly tall man. He stood at probably just an inch or two shy of seven feet tall. Contrasting greatly with the blizzard that seemed to have permeated the town for the last week, he wore but a thin coat. It was very akin to what one might see on a modern Sherlock Holmes. The plain grey fabric was contrasted greatly by the rich purple scarf he wore loosely draped across both shoulders. It whipped around in the wind, and he wound it tighter around his throat to keep the weather from claiming it. Standing in stark contrast to his dark clothing was the man's white hair. It draped loosely over his shoulders, the front strands braided and pulled back in a hair tie to keep it from his eyes. His hair was almost abnormally white, especially considering his youthful face. The only marring on his youthful skin was a light scar over his left eye.

No one noticed the man, however, because most of them were currently screaming in fear. The street became almost empty as the people fled, leaving behind only three beings.

"Skulker!" Screamed a boy. He was floating high above the street, a soft glow radiating from his body. He wore a most odd outfit, a suit that seemed like something straight out of a science fiction movie. The only distinction that spoke of what he did for the town was the 'D' emblazoned on his chest. The very wind seemed to snip around the boy, messing up his hair and threatening to take out his hair tie, it was so violent. But the boy seemed not to care.

Floating across from the boy was what could only be called a robot. A robot that was floating in the air seemingly by the cause of magic. A flaming green mohawk came from his head and slightly down his back. The villainous appearance was greatly supported by the grin on his face. One of the mech’s arms transformed suddenly into a large gun and he fired a deafening shot. The mech aimed straight for the boy, whose hardened expression only made him seem more like the young adult he was becoming.

The teen was caught off guard by the sudden action and the maniacal look that seemed to be set into the mech's metal face. From the glowing green gun launched something that seemed infinitely too large for the firearm. The mech was jolted back by the recoil but seemed unbothered, if the readying of another ballistic was any indication. The jets of a missile echoed in the wind and a rushed curse could be heard underneath the boy's breath. He suddenly dodged to the side, orienting himself so that his feet faced the sky as he dove face-first into the pavement.

He disappeared beneath the surface, an action that seemed almost impossible. At least to someone who had never seen such a spectacle before. The missile collided with the road and exploded in a great ball of green fire. The blastwave wasn't very strong, the town had certainly seen greater, but it was enough to blow the man's hair back. The sudden appearance of a nearing siren in the distance went unnoticed by the fighters, as they were locked in their heated battle. The man did not so much as turn to hear the sound, almost as though he knew what was coming before it occurred.

The boy erupted up from the ground like a bullet from a smoking gun, sending an ice-covered fist straight into the mech's jaw. Pieces and plates fell from the robot, scattering across the long-abandoned street with a tinkling almost akin to broken glass as they hit the concrete.

"Can't you just leave me alone?" Shouted the boy, sending another fist right into the forehead of the robot, seemingly trying to behead it through brute force.

"You know I can't do that, whelp!" Shouted the mech, grabbing at the boy and gripping his wrist, squeezing tightly enough that the boy let out a cry of pain. Suddenly he pulled back before throwing the boy into the ground with as much force as he could muster. The boy's choked scream was suddenly cut off as he collided with the hard road. The concrete collapsed beneath him, forming a crater that cradled the boy's body.

He wheezed for a moment, struggling to drag in a good breath. He choked on air and coughed, barely managing to gasp when suddenly the mech appeared, wrapping a hand around the boy's throat and hauling him into the air. The boy sputtered again, hands pulled at the metal fingers in an attempt to loosen their grip.

"I will have your pelt," Said the mech in a sinister tone, eyes darkening as he watched the boy struggle. The teen’s gaze was locked onto the robot for a moment, broadcasting a deep hatred. Suddenly there was a crackling of electricity and the boy seized up, muscles going stiff and eyes clenching shut as he rode out some invisible pain. The mech only watched gleefully, observing the boy as he shivered and shook. At one point the mech allowed to boy a moment of relief, but he continued the torture meer seconds after pausing. It made the man’s blood boil. But this was not his place to intervene, no matter how much he wished it was. Not yet.

Finally, after a moment that stretched into a million, the boy relaxed, drooping in clear exhaustion that could be seen in the bags under his eyes. And yet he didn't close them. Instead, he stared right into the robot's pupil-less green orbs, almost as though he was egging him on. The two were locked in a staring match for a tense moment until there was a squealing of tires and the boy's gaze was torn away.

Suddenly pulling up to the scene was a pair of adults in very odd suits. They were none too different from the one the ethereal teen bore, except that they were decked out in eye-burning teal and orange rather than monochrome.

"Give it up, spooks!" Shouted the teal-clad woman as she leapt from the monstrous vehicle, a humongous gun already held over her shoulder and a finger on the trigger. Neither of the spectral beings had more than a moment to think as a shot was fired, one that collided against the mech's back.

He cried out in shock, more than pain, suddenly dropping the boy and whipping around. Out of the vehicle clambered another person, this one being a rather large man clad in orange. He had his own armory strapped to his back and hidden in pockets all over his suit. He whipped out a significantly larger weapon that could almost be described as a bazooka but did not yet fire.

The man shuddered at the sight and backed up further into the shadows, despite knowing for a fact that he would remain unnoticed. He unconsciously held his coat closer to himself as the wind suddenly changed directions.

The mech growled lowly, rearing back and manifesting a glowing green blade from the back of his arm. He threw himself at the newcomers in feral fury, only to be held back by a sudden blue beam that locked onto his form. Abruptly he was yanked back and it appeared as though he was melting, disappearing within the blink of an eye into a small canister that was held in the boy's grasp with an animalistic screech.

The boy laid on the concrete, only a short distance from the crater that he had made earlier. With shaking arms he capped the device, fumbling to clip it back onto his belt before deciding to heck with it, and simply holding the object in his grasp. Despite his exhaustion the boy lifted his heavy limbs and pulled himself up into the air, struggling to right himself and remain airborne as he attempted to flee the scene. To escape before they fired at him as well. His breath was quite labored, chest heaving as he ascended all-too slowly. The electricity had clearly taken a lot out of him, almost as though it was a weakness of some sort.

He made the mistake of turning his back to the hunters.

Without a warning shot, the orange hunter pulled the trigger. His normally horrible aim was straight on for once, and the boy was struck in midair, dropping like a stone. Tears streamed down the young cheeks before he had even hit the ground. His cries echoed cruelly through the air as he laid prone on the asphalt.

“Good shot, Jack!” Congratulated the teal huntress, and the man couldn’t hold back his disgusted glare. The pair rushed forward towards the boy. The man fought to keep himself from rushing forward. How dare they approach while he was so vulnerable. But the man managed to keep himself restrained, waiting for the right time.

“Thanks!” Replied the other, and they both looked down at the sobbing child with smiles of joy, smiles that were all-too pleased for such a set of sickening people.

“Oh you can cut it, Phantom.” Said the huntress. Her smiled melted to meer annoyance, and she kicked the boy in the ribs, only making him sob harder.  
“Ghosts don’t feel pain, you don’t have to fake it anymore.” She sneered, obviously displeased when the boy continued to cry. Through tear-filled eyes, he looked up at the hunters. There was pain, of course, but also an underlying sense of love. One that they were in no way worthy of.

“I’m-” The boy choked.  
“I’m sorry.” He said reverently. His hands were latched around the metal spear that pierced his chest, right through the core. Ectoplasm mixed with a swirling red blossomed from the injury, painting the street in a mockery of the holiday’s colors. The hunters exchanged slightly confused looks, befuddlement painting their faces until suddenly a ring of light formed at the boy’s chest, right where the spear lay. At the very same moment, the wind stopped in its tracks. Fat flakes of snow began to drift from the heavens as the rings spread out over the body. His grip went slack, hands falling to lay at his sides.

The light emanated from the boy’s center, passing over his spectral form to reveal underneath it a much more solid one. White hair, tied neatly, became pitch black and loose to splay out beneath his head. The odd suit became much more normal attire; a pair of jeans torn from wear, and a navy blue sweatshirt with a faded logo on the front. The green turned bloodred as the first tear fell down the mother’s cheek.

With that change the man made himself known, footsteps failing to leave any prints in the snow as he approached the frozen couple and the corpse that lay at their feet. They saw him as he stopped, looking down at the child. They appeared horrified. The boy’s icy blue eyes stared straight up into the sky, and a single tear was still dripping its way down his left cheek. His eyebrows, where they had been furrowed, had relaxed. Combined with the pained smile that had graced his face he appeared almost peaceful, looking up into the heavens. 

Even though he knew what was going to happen, the man couldn’t help the lump of emotion that formed in his throat. His eyes watered slightly but he dared not allow himself to cry.

“Who-” The hunter began, his words cut off by his own cries. But he was not of the man’s concern. The very fabric of space seemed to take in a breath, the world pausing around them and the flakes of snow that drifted from the sky stopping in their tracks. The man and the hunters stayed in the present, however. The man wanted to make them suffer. They had to see this, had to witness what they had done.

A shadow of a wisp began to form over the boy’s body. In several sob-filled minutes it had begun to taken shape, forming the visage of a pale, blue-skinned boy that, truly, was closer than a child than anything. Simple, white clothes decorated its person as it formed into a smokey shape. The man knew what was about to happen, and watched with a keen eye. As the being’s form became more solid the hunters took notice, pulling themselves from their grief to finally notice what was happening around them. The ethereal being had existed for but a moment until suddenly its ice-blue eyes burst open with a loud gasp. White hair swirled around its hand as it whipped around, catching sight of the hunters before turning to the man. Its expression crumpled as it locked eyes with him.

“Clockwork!” He cried, and the man let his illusions drop. The ghostling launched itself at him, clasping its arms around the man’s middle. In place of the simple human now existed the Master of Time, the ancient who currently had a newly-formed ghost cradled in his arms. He could feel the drain on his own core as the boy unconsciously drew from its energy. But he didn’t mind, instead tucking the head of white hair under his chin.

“Shh,” He soothed, running fingers through the ivory locks that fell through his fingers like water, more cloud and energy than actual hair. Where before he had been brash and dark the ghostling was fragile and nothing short of angelic.

There was nothing but silence for a moment as Clockwork comforted the new ghost. That is until suddenly the small head popped up and he began to make an attempt at tearing himself from the time master’s grasp.  
“Let me go-” He said, pushing against Clockwork.

“Daniel.” He said in a firm, yet soft tone. Because ancients, the boy had just died, he deserved more than a small bit of kindness. Daniel stopped fighting and instead let Clockwork support him as he turned, seeing his devastated parents and looking up into their faces.

“Danno?”Jack started, silent sobs turning audible yet again.  
“I’m so sorry,” He cried, putting his head in his hands. Maddie laid a hand on his shoulder, despite the befuddled expression on her face.

“Danny? You’re Phantom?!” She said the name with such a tone of disgust that the ghostling flinched, easily affected by the emotions. Seeing him withdraw into himself made Clockwork’s anger flare, and he suddenly felt oddly protective of Daniel, more so than he had been before.

“You will not speak to him in that tone.” Clockwork demanded. At his words, he felt Daniel relax, the boy realizing that he had someone here, someone to protect him. As Clockwork was determined to do until the end of time.

“He’s my son! I need to fix him!” Maddie shouted.  
“Put him down this instant!” She insisted, reaching to collect Daniel from Clockwork’s arms. That would certainly not happen. 

“You certainly didn’t care about that fact when you were shooting at him.” Clockwork argued. He was surely above arguing with a human but he felt the need to protect, to defend. And he was damned if anything was going to get in the way of his doing so. Truly there was no reason that he had to stick around to argue with the hunters, but they had him so fired up that he couldn’t help but respond. He knew what would happen, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Humanity is a dear thing.

“We didn’t know!” Maddie argued, voice high as she tried to make her point.

“Well perhaps if you had actually bothered to pay attention to the boy instead of ignoring him-”

“Clockwork,” The ghostling said quietly, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Seeing such made the time master feel rather murderous towards the humans that had made him this way.  
“Lair?” He asked faintly, as though he already understood what had to happen. Of course he did, he knew about new ghosts, and their dependency on the ectoplasm in the Ghost Zone. Clockwork had been the one to teach him about them, after all. Hearing the question made all of the fight drain out of Clockwork. With barely a thought he found himself shifting Danny lightly, Clockwork making sure he was comfortable in his new one-handed hold. Like magic Clockwork’s staff came to his fingertips, and a portal between the very fabric of time was torn into the open air.

Mesmerized blue eyes stared into the portal as it formed, the swirling hues being a sharp contrast to the cheap imitation that existed in the Fenton’s basement. The colors of Clockwork’s portals were infinitely richer, and the myriad of contrasting tones somehow fit together like the pieces of a puzzle to form chaotic perfection. There was no doubt that it was a portal to another realm when even the simplest of minds laid eyes upon it.

Both ghosts ignored the humans' shouts and protests, instead readily welcoming the gateway that opened up before them.

“Of course, my child.” With that the world snapped back into motion and the pair disappeared into infinity.


End file.
